Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Misery? Gone.
Depression? Gone.
Aching over past love? Gone.
Disposition over work? Gone.
War? Famine? Poverty? Gone!
What is this you say? I am actually happy? I am actually "content"?
Of course, it is all due to my own personal lunacy.
My sometimes frayed connection with reality.
With the fact that somewhere, deep within the black void
There beats this tragically romantic
Often cheesy
Horribly afflicted
Easily infatuated thing
I think some call it a heart.
If a marble sculpture was made flesh
And, the most ancient and obvious beauty made real
I hath seen it tonight
Somewhat impersonally
And, one-dimensionally.
If art itself can be appreciated
And moving
In any of it’s forms
Then it has moved me
With a white flat screen on which light was directed
And reflected.
A man of course
A character
Not even real and portrayed as the impossible
Unattainable
Beautiful.
I had seen it in stills
Unmoving pictures
A few short commercials
A glimpse at the accent
But, I never expected it to become something so amazingly handsome
That I would embarrass myself with a child-like lust displayed.
The fantasy is the most gracious and amazing of all human abilities I think
As long as you don’t cross the boundary into something unhealthy
This is not unhealthy right now
It is just a playful release of pent up longing
I know the difference between the real and the imaginary
All I do is lament over it and whine about it
Right now I’m just flush with this pleasant feeling of inspiration.
It’s so silly
Yet fun all the same
It’s been a while so why not have fun with it
Run with it
Matthew Goode.
Chasing Liberty.
Amazing. Amazing. Amazing.
His face.
His body.
His voice.
If I was shallow enough to have a list of all the traits I desired
He would be the flesh and blood embodiment of that list.
Every time he was on screen I was entranced
Hypnotized.
He has this smirk and these eyes that made me writhe in my seat as if I was eleven.
Ten.
Nine even.
Andy Roddick. Forgotten.
Brad Pitt. Left behind.
My ex. Who??
It’s just a character in a movie.
In real life, he could be a prick
An asshole
An idiot.
Right now, I wouldn’t care.
Slap me around.
Degrade me.
Have no ability what-so-ever to maintain an intelligent conversation.
All I’d want was to look.
On occasion, believe it or not
I see, appreciate or otherwise drool over someone
And, I wouldn’t want to sleep with that person
I’d want to hear what they had to say about life
I’d want to spend time with them
My God, I’d want to hold their hand in a park.
It sounds so unbelievable and so unlike me
But, ’tis true.
Once in a millennia
(And usually unattainable fantasies)
I do actually have a sense of fantastical infatuation
Without the need for sex
Without mind-numbing lust
(Remember again, it is just fantasy)
The words were much more magical on the street
When I was freezing my face off
On the El, they rhymed
They flowed
They didn’t seem so cheesy.
Sometimes one needs a reminder
Even one contained within such a silly packaged moment.
Hope
Frivolous emotion toyed about with innocently
Perfection
Absolute perfection.
The smile
The eyes
The voice
And, the body was nothing short of resplendent
I’d never seen the like on any greased-up model
Or box-dancing tragedy
Every time he was on screen I wanted to write poetry
Prose
Plays
Novels
I wanted to believe in things I have lately been dubious of.
Isn’t this all just silly
And childish?
Right now, I don’t care
Maybe tonight I’ll dream about being in love
Just for the hell of it
No break ups or begging
Meaningless tristes of lust
Fantasy.
Healthy, positive fantasy
Simply for the sake of feeling a bit more alive than I usually do.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel sad at it’s inherent impossibility.
But, not tonight.
Tonight maybe some Michelle Branch
Debbie Gibson?
Oh dear, not Ronan Keating! It can’t be!
It’s the kind of tiny moment that makes you want to be a better person.
Makes you want to change you life
Because it reminds you of things worth living for.
Depression? Gone.
Aching over past love? Gone.
Disposition over work? Gone.
War? Famine? Poverty? Gone!
What is this you say? I am actually happy? I am actually "content"?
Of course, it is all due to my own personal lunacy.
My sometimes frayed connection with reality.
With the fact that somewhere, deep within the black void
There beats this tragically romantic
Often cheesy
Horribly afflicted
Easily infatuated thing
I think some call it a heart.
If a marble sculpture was made flesh
And, the most ancient and obvious beauty made real
I hath seen it tonight
Somewhat impersonally
And, one-dimensionally.
If art itself can be appreciated
And moving
In any of it’s forms
Then it has moved me
With a white flat screen on which light was directed
And reflected.
A man of course
A character
Not even real and portrayed as the impossible
Unattainable
Beautiful.
I had seen it in stills
Unmoving pictures
A few short commercials
A glimpse at the accent
But, I never expected it to become something so amazingly handsome
That I would embarrass myself with a child-like lust displayed.
The fantasy is the most gracious and amazing of all human abilities I think
As long as you don’t cross the boundary into something unhealthy
This is not unhealthy right now
It is just a playful release of pent up longing
I know the difference between the real and the imaginary
All I do is lament over it and whine about it
Right now I’m just flush with this pleasant feeling of inspiration.
It’s so silly
Yet fun all the same
It’s been a while so why not have fun with it
Run with it
Matthew Goode.
Chasing Liberty.
Amazing. Amazing. Amazing.
His face.
His body.
His voice.
If I was shallow enough to have a list of all the traits I desired
He would be the flesh and blood embodiment of that list.
Every time he was on screen I was entranced
Hypnotized.
He has this smirk and these eyes that made me writhe in my seat as if I was eleven.
Ten.
Nine even.
Andy Roddick. Forgotten.
Brad Pitt. Left behind.
My ex. Who??
It’s just a character in a movie.
In real life, he could be a prick
An asshole
An idiot.
Right now, I wouldn’t care.
Slap me around.
Degrade me.
Have no ability what-so-ever to maintain an intelligent conversation.
All I’d want was to look.
On occasion, believe it or not
I see, appreciate or otherwise drool over someone
And, I wouldn’t want to sleep with that person
I’d want to hear what they had to say about life
I’d want to spend time with them
My God, I’d want to hold their hand in a park.
It sounds so unbelievable and so unlike me
But, ’tis true.
Once in a millennia
(And usually unattainable fantasies)
I do actually have a sense of fantastical infatuation
Without the need for sex
Without mind-numbing lust
(Remember again, it is just fantasy)
The words were much more magical on the street
When I was freezing my face off
On the El, they rhymed
They flowed
They didn’t seem so cheesy.
Sometimes one needs a reminder
Even one contained within such a silly packaged moment.
Hope
Frivolous emotion toyed about with innocently
Perfection
Absolute perfection.
The smile
The eyes
The voice
And, the body was nothing short of resplendent
I’d never seen the like on any greased-up model
Or box-dancing tragedy
Every time he was on screen I wanted to write poetry
Prose
Plays
Novels
I wanted to believe in things I have lately been dubious of.
Isn’t this all just silly
And childish?
Right now, I don’t care
Maybe tonight I’ll dream about being in love
Just for the hell of it
No break ups or begging
Meaningless tristes of lust
Fantasy.
Healthy, positive fantasy
Simply for the sake of feeling a bit more alive than I usually do.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel sad at it’s inherent impossibility.
But, not tonight.
Tonight maybe some Michelle Branch
Debbie Gibson?
Oh dear, not Ronan Keating! It can’t be!
It’s the kind of tiny moment that makes you want to be a better person.
Makes you want to change you life
Because it reminds you of things worth living for.